by Amy Jarecki
Aleck reached for a ewer of ale and poured for himself without a passing glance to his wife.
Lady Helen watched him with an unruffled expression.
Something is amiss.
Eoin swallowed his mouthful and leaned far enough forward to see that her tankard was empty. “Please excuse me.” Eoin reached across for the ewer and held it up. “M’lady?”
Her eyes brightened with her smile. “Yes, that would be lovely, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Eoin poured. “I understand you have a daughter.”
“Aye, she’s but six sennights old.”
“She is a wee one indeed.” His gaze slid down to her slender waist. “You are fit. No one would have any idea you’d recently birthed a bairn.”
“How nice of you to say.” Helen chuckled softly. “I named her Margaret for Mother and Alice for my younger sister.”
“I am impressed. If the wee one grows up to be anything like Lady Margaret, she will be a woman to be reckoned with.”
“I hope so.” Helen daintily used her teeth to clip a bite of roast venison from her eating knife. “I call her Maggie. Margaret seems ever so serious for a bairn.”
“Maggie? I like it.” Eoin raised his tankard. “To Sir Aleck and Lady Helen for the birth of a healthy lass. May she grow up to be as bonny as her mother.”
Aleck slowly picked up his tankard, a sneer stretching one corner of his mouth. “The bairn should have been a lad.”
Eoin shrugged. “Aye, but the world needs lassies as well as lads—and she’s only your first.”
“It took five miserable years for Maggie to come about.” Aleck slammed his tankard onto the table and glared at Helen.
Folding her hands in her lap, she fixated on her trencher, her face nearly as red as her gown. Eoin averted his gaze and shoveled a bite of food in his mouth. He had no business worrying about Lady Helen’s domestic issues. MacIain was irritated that she’d birthed a lass? The bastard had best get his arse above stairs and start working on the next bairn, which Eoin prayed would be a lad—not for Sir Aleck, but for Lady Helen’s sake.
Eoin tore off a bit of bread and slathered it with butter while watching Helen out of the corner of his eye. She’d always been mindful of her manners, but her motions seemed exact, as if she were making a conscious attempt to be perfect. Her back was erect, her chin level—she was the picture of a well-bred woman. The only problem was she appeared too stiff. Was she trying to hide something? Come to think of it, since Eoin had taken his seat, Sir Aleck had hardly given his wife a nod.
“The venison is delicious.” Eoin tested the waters. “I commend your excellent skill with the menu, considering you had little notice of such an immense gathering of guests.”
Helen beamed with a radiant smile.
“Cook has it well in hand,” Aleck said, his mouth so full, he spat food across the table. “Lady Helen had little to do with it.”
The lady’s lips disappeared into a thin line and that rigid spine somehow inched a bit straighter. Eoin couldn’t help but lean toward her ear and whisper, “My guess is your husband’s quite mistaken.”
She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a delicate finger. “Actually,” she said loud enough for Aleck to hear. “Had I not stopped by the kitchen on my way out to welcome you, we might be dining on bread and cheese this eve.”
Aleck reached for the ewer, then slammed it down with overzealous force. “Bring me some whisky!”
Helen jolted and clapped a hand to her chest.
Married five years and her husband’s raucous behavior still makes her jump? Dear Helen, what mess have you made of your life?
Eoin raked his fingers through his hair and looked away. How many times must he remind himself Lady Helen’s plight was not his worry? She hadn’t asked him for help. In fact, aside from Sir Aleck’s ribbing, she appeared to be healthy—coping quite well.
After a servant brought a flagon of whisky, Aleck poured for himself then shoved it past Helen where it nearly toppled over in front of Eoin. “Join me in a tot?”
“My…ah…thanks.” Eoin would have preferred to tell the lout he was about as chivalrous as a moray eel.
Aleck took a swig. “Play us a tune, wife.”
Helen regarded him. “I don’t think our guests—”
“Bloody hell, woman. I want to hear some music—playing the lute is about all you’re useful for around my keep.” He flicked his wrist. “Go on.”
Eoin had heard enough. He pushed back his chair and stood.
Helen did as well, but grasped his arm. “Leave it be,” she said in a low tone.
Eoin glared at Aleck—the bastard had remained seated when his wife stood. “Did you not see the lady rise?”
The chieftain looked up with an irritated glare. “Pardon me?”
“Your wife.” Controlling his rage, Eoin opted for restraint rather than inviting the ruffian out to the courtyard. “Aside from being the lady of the keep and a wife of one of Scotland’s noble chieftains, she’s the daughter of a baron. Do you not show her a knight’s courtesy when she stands?”
MacIain’s eyes grew wide while he gaped at Eoin, but his surprise was soon replaced by a black-hearted scowl. “She would have earned her respect had she birthed a lad.” He gestured to the empty seat. “I suggest you mind your own affairs whilst you’re a guest in my castle.”
Eoin paused for a moment. If only MacIain would lose his temper and blurt out a threat. He’d welcome any excuse to take the bastard to the courtyard and teach him a lesson in chivalry. But aside from a smoldering fire in his eyes, the chieftain managed to control his ire. Eoin bowed to Lady Helen, took his seat, and turned his attention to her performance.
As he’d remembered from his years at Kilchurn Castle, Helen had a magical talent with the lute.
She sat on a stool and tuned her instrument. While Eoin watched, he tried to recall her age. If he remembered correctly, she was seven years his younger. That would make her five and twenty—still young and certainly able to produce an heir for MacIain several times over.
Taking in a deep breath, Helen began to strum a familiar tune, a ballad he could accompany her with on the pipes. The music floated on the air as if carried on butterfly wings. Aye, her proficiency rivaled the king’s minstrels. And when she opened her mouth, her voice was soft, though clear as a lark. But it held a sultry sadness Eoin hadn’t remembered.
A buxom woman climbed the dais stairs, clutching a flagon. She had a handsome face and ample hips made for child-bearing. She grinned at Aleck. Eoin had seen that look on a woman’s face many times before. There was no mistaking what she had on her mind as she sauntered around the table. Aleck slapped her bottom, then held his hand there.
Eoin looked to Helen. Her tone had grown softer. The lady shifted upon her stool and projected her song out to the hall. The crowd listened appreciatively, but all eyes were on the chieftain. With Helen’s back now turned, MacIain pulled the woman onto his lap.
Eoin stared, mouth agape while Aleck devoured the wench with a lascivious kiss that made no bones about his intentions.
Lady Helen’s voice trembled as if she had eyes in the back of her head.
“I’ll see you anon.” Aleck lifted the woman from his lap and gave her a hearty smack on the behind. She giggled and flashed a cheeky smile as she scurried away.
Any misgivings Eoin had about Helen’s happiness were now amplified ten times over. Aleck MacIain had not only taken a leman, he was openly demonstrative about it. No wonder Helen’s voice sounded woeful.
The lady finished the tune with a strum that made chills run up Eoin’s spine. She smiled and bowed her head to Aleck and then to Eoin. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I must bid goodnight to Miss Maggie.”
Her husband dismissed her with another flick of his wrist.
Eoin stood and hastened after her. “Lady Helen.”
She stopped before descending the dais steps, staring at the floor.
“Thank you.” E
oin reached for her elbow, but snatched his hand away before he touched her. Such a gesture might be seen as unseemly. “I enjoyed listening to your performance. It brought back fond memories.” He gulped. Satan’s bones, he sounded like a milksop. If only he could speak to her without an audience and enquire as to her happiness.
She emitted a chuckle that had an edge to it. “Memories of a fairytale life from long ago.” She dipped her head. “Please excuse me.”
He bowed. “M’lady.”
Eoin glanced to the table. MacIain had turned his attention to the man sitting to his right—completely unperturbed that Eoin had ventured to speak to his wife. I’ve had enough. He bowed because that was what was expected of any knight when taking his leave. “If you would pardon me, I’ve things to attend.”
He didn’t wait to see if Aleck acknowledged him or not. After watching this eve’s twisted state of affairs unfold, Eoin needed air. God, how he wanted to climb into his galley and sail back to Argyllshire. Eoin had never hoped for a battle before, but he wished the MacDonalds were planning something rash so he could chase them up and down the western coast of Scotland—anything to take him away from Mingary Castle and its quagmire of shite.
Helen hastened to the nursery while she bit back her urge to cry. Her mortification had been exacerbated by Eoin’s presence in the great hall. It was bad enough for Aleck to be openly brazen when amongst their clansmen and women, but her husband’s actions this night were deplorable. She pushed through the nursery door.
Sarah looked up and smiled.
Taking a deep breath, Helen quickly regained her composure. “Good eve. How is my darling?”
The nursemaid gathered Maggie in her arms. Helen still hadn’t grown accustomed to seeing her bairn cared for by another, but Sarah was the ideal nursemaid. She never left Maggie unattended or wanting for anything. “I was just about to put her down for the night, m’lady.” She held the bairn out.
Helen gathered the wee bundle in her arms. “Have you eaten, Miss Sarah?”
“Not yet.”
“Go on now, I’ll care for Maggie.”
She curtseyed. “Thank you, m’lady.”
After the door closed, Helen carried the bairn to the rocker. “Have you been giving Miss Sarah any difficulty?”
Maggie gave a gummy grin.
“I’m sure you have. ’Tis your duty to make a fuss.”
The wee lass squealed.
“That’s exactly what I say. Do you remember when I told you an old friend had come to Mingary?” Helen arched her brow expectantly. Thank heavens Maggie hadn’t a clue what she was saying. “Sir Eoin, to my surprise, hasn’t lost his manners. If anything he’s become more chivalrous.” She turned her head away. “And decidedly more handsome than I’d remembered.”
Helen rocked the babe for a while and hummed, losing herself in her thoughts. Maggie’s eyelids grew heavy, yet Helen continued to rock rather than place the bairn in her cradle.
“I loathe being embarrassed in front of the clan—and now outsiders. If only I could stay in the nursery with you. Nothing in the world seems to matter when one is inside a nursery.” Helen chuckled. “Can I stay in here at least until Sir Eoin and his men take their leave?” She glanced down at Maggie’s face. Her eyes were closed now, her wee mouth slightly open. In slumber she looked like an angel from heaven.
Helen touched her lips to her daughter’s forehead. “I shall never approve of an arranged marriage for you, lass. I swear it on my father’s grave. You shall have your choice of any knight in the realm.”
Helen rocked and rocked, humming whilst she allowed the quiet solitude to revive her soul. Perhaps she could spend more time with Maggie—or feign an illness so she wouldn’t have to see Sir Eoin again. How poorly he must have apprised her after Aleck slobbered that kiss all over Mary.
An anchor sank to the pit of Helen’s stomach. She couldn’t remember Aleck ever kissing her like that. Worse, she definitely could not imagine him ever doing so. In the past, her husband’s kisses had been brusque pecks. He’d never been overly affectionate. In fact, his ever increasing disdain for Helen oft had her doubting he harbored any affection for her at all. Aye, she’d tried to act the ideal wife, always seeing that things ran smoothly in the keep—always trying to make Aleck happy. If only he would show appreciation for her efforts.
Helen closed her eyes to rest them for a bit. And as the hour grew later, her eyelids became ever so heavy. She leaned her head back and allowed sleep to take her mind away.
She woke with a start when Sarah tapped her shoulder. “M’lady?”
Helen rubbed a hand over here face. “Sarah? You’ve returned already?”
“I was afraid you’d be cross with me for staying away too long.”
“Not at all.” Helen stood and gently rested Maggie in her cradle. “Is the hour late?”
“Aye. Everyone has gone to bed. The lamps and candles in the hall have been snuffed.”
“Oh my, you were away for a time.”
“Forgive me.” Sarah blushed.
Helen figured there might be a lad who’d caught her eye. After all, nursemaids were allowed a bit of fun from time to time. She patted Sarah’s shoulder. “Not to worry. Maggie and I were fine. But I’d best find my bed. I fear tomorrow will be busy with a stable loft full of warriors.”
“Och, aye.” Sarah grinned. “Will they be here for long?”
“I sincerely hope not.” Helen gave her a wink. “But their chieftain is a childhood friend of mine, if you’d like me to put in a good word on your behalf.”
Sarah’s cheeks grew redder. “I’m sure that will not be necessary, m’lady.”
“You could do far worse than a MacGregor lad.”
“Aye?” Sarah curtseyed. “Thank you, m’lady.”
Helen collected a candle and opened the door. “I shall see you on the morrow.”
Making her way through the dimly lit stone passage, she sighed. If only things had been different for her. True, her brother had made a good alliance with her betrothal, but Helen hadn’t seen Duncan in years.
Once inside her chamber, she set the candle on the bedside table. Unlacing her gown took effort, but she didn’t want to wake Glenda. When she finally shook out her linen shift and climbed into bed, noise from the adjoining chamber startled her.
“Your bosoms make my cock harder than forged iron,” Aleck’s voice rumbled through the walls, followed by a woman’s chuckle.
“I want you to suckle me.” No question, it was Mary’s voice.
Aleck’s growl rattled the wall.
Helen tensed and clamped her fingers around the linens.
The bed on the other side of the wall creaked. Louder and louder the disgusting noises of passion grew. Mary moaned and begged for more, her mewls growing faster.
Helen clapped her hands over her ears, but the bed thudding into the wall was too loud. On and on the bed creaked. Aleck bellowed a gut-wrenching roar. Every muscle in Helen’s body tensed. She sat upright for a moment, ready to flee. But just when Helen thought it would never end, all went quiet.
She moved her trembling hands over her face and coughed out a sob. God in heaven, I can take this no longer.
5
By the next morning, Helen had made up her mind. She would confront Aleck and let her feelings be known. After dressing and breaking her fast, she gathered her wits and proceeded to the second floor solar. Along the way, she reminded herself of the important points—things that had kept her awake all night. Her first concern, of course, was Maggie. Helen would protect her daughter no matter what, but she would also speak her peace. She’d done nothing but serve and bow to her husband for the past five years. He owed her a modicum of respect.
It was time she made some demands of her own. But still, as she proceeded down the winding tower stairs, unease gripped her insides.
The bottom further dropped from her stomach when she arrived at her husband’s solar door. Summoning her fortitude, she knocked softly. Whe
n there was no answer, Helen stood a bit taller and gave two firm raps.
“Come.” The foreboding timber of Aleck’s voice was enough to make most lassies tremble.
Though Helen wanted to crack open the door and peer in like a mouse, she stepped inside and closed it with a deep, empowering inhale. “We must talk.”
Aleck looked up from the ledger. His black eyes narrowed with his disapproving frown. “Well? Out with it. I’ve things to attend,” he said, drumming his fingers to further make his impatience clear.
She clasped her palms together and stepped forward. There was no use trying to soothe him with flowery language. That had never worked in the past. “I request that you send Maggie and me to Iona.”
Aleck glared, the color of his face flushed like he’d held a fire to it. “Pardon?”
She’d seen that heated stare before and this time she would not allow him to intimidate her. “As you are aware, my brother, John, is Bishop of the Isles and resides at the abbey. He could help us secure a place in the nunnery. I would retire into the service of our Lord and raise our daughter with sound Christian values.”
“A nunnery? Have you lost your mind?” Aleck leaned forward in his seat, his scowl taking on a deadly glint. “No, wife. You’ll not be going anywhere, especially with my daughter.”
Beneath her heavy skirts, Helen clenched her bottom muscles and stared him in the eye. “Why ever not? You openly disdain me and you haven’t seen Maggie since the day she was born.”
“How dare you question me? What are you thinking with that feeble, female mind of yours? A nunnery?” Aleck braced his palms on the table and stood, leveraging his size for further intimidation. “You and the bairn are mine. My property. I’ll never allow either of you to leave Mingary.”
Her mind raced. She’d expected his refusal—had rehearsed her argument. “We could keep it quiet.” She spread her hands to her sides and took a bold step forward. “I simply ask to reside in a nunnery where I will no longer cause you consternation—or give you excuses to taunt me.”
